


down we go

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BPD, Depression, M/M, Suicide mention, abuse mention, alcohol mention, no one dies jfyi, self harm mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9216047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When he woke up the next day he felt so much disgust and shame he couldn´t bear it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> me being a happy lil camper as always

When Harry wakes up he is drenched in sweat. It´s still dark in the bedroom, Louis is laying half on top of him, holding him in a death grip.  
It takes Harry the better part of 30 minutes to disentangle himself slowly and carefully and he slips out of the room. The clock on the oven flashes 3:47am. So he got about two hours of sleep. Yay. He makes himself some coffee and flops down on the couch, flips through the channels and settles for ER reruns. Twenty minutes into the first episode he is silently giggling to himself. His anger about not being able to get up immediately after waking up slowly evaporating out of his system.  
By the time Louis gets up Harry is about to punch a hole in the wall- or rip his face off- or get hammered- or scream his lungs out -or cut himself or all of it at once. He hates it when he is like this. Up Up Up. There is no reason to this as far as Harry could tell. He just wakes up one morning with enough energy for the both of them and nowhere to put it. Working out only makes it worse. Sex is out of the question, because being an abuse survivor, Louis doesn´t like it rough, so they only kiss when Harry is like this, because he doesn´t trust himself enough to be gentle with Louis.

When Louis flops down next to him on the couch being all grumpy, Harry can´t help but grin and burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. Louis just smiles and waits patiently, knowing Harry cannot help it.  
“Morning sunshine.” He says, pulling Harry closer.  
“Hello my one and only love.”  
“You´re shaking, love. Will you be okay alone?”  
“Yeah, I´m good.” Harry says, knowing full well he´ll start getting sloshed the moment Louis leaves the flat.  
Dancing around to silly 90s pop songs. He know he shouldn´t. He knows Louis worries about his alcohol intake. But it´s the only way besides cutting he can get some of that energy out. And Louis knows that, too. So as long as it doesn´t get out of control he stays silent on the matter and Harry is very thankful for that. Louis doesn´t have those random bouts that leave him unable to sleep and concentrate and acting like a fool. Doesn´t have those days were his mind is just blank and he does whatever feels good at the time, whatever his non-existent impulse control makes him do.  
Louis just kinda retreats into himself when his brain sets itself on fire. He spends hours upon hours playing videogames, barely functioning, rarely leaving the house. Rarely talking to Harry then. And although it rips his heart to shreds to a point where he can hardly breathe, Harry understands.  
Louis doesn´t like him in those episodes. Wants to be left alone. Splitting is something Louis does, but Harry doesn´t. At least not on Louis. And Louis always apologises heartbreakingly. Feels incredibly guilty for ignoring Harry and leaving him alone. Missing important steps along the way; steps they were supposed to make together. In return Louis never forced Harry into therapy after several attempts ended badly- to the point where Harry tried to kill himself again, because his therapist kept pushing too hard.  
Louis just held him and told Harry how much he loved him, wanted to marry and adopt kids with him and it´ll be okay, don´t leave me here alone, please. I need you.

So Harry stayed. Made it through college even though it ran him to the ground and to the brink of suicide, because dealing with it all was just too damn much. Too many contradicting emotions all at once, constantly. Louis asked him why he didn´t drop out but Harry wasn´t a quitter, never had been. And when some old lady told him what an angel he was and how careful with his patients and how rare that was, he couldn´t help but believe he made the right choice in staying.

(Harry stopped cutting, too. For himself, though, not for Louis. It took him a while but one day when he was fumbling with the gauze, trying to bandage his arm one-handed, white hot rage at himself overcame him, because what the fuck was he doing?  
Louis nearly burst with pride when he realised.)  
“Alright. But please…eat something, okay?” Louis nudges his head slightly.  
“So you picked up on that, huh?” Harry mumbles.  
“It´s kinda hard not to, when your boyfriend loses like 15 pounds in a couple days.”  
“It´s only 8.”  
“Harry.”  
“Alright, alright, I´ll eat. I promise. And enough, too.” He pecks Louis on the lips.  
They stand in their doorway for at least 10 minutes before Louis finally lets go of Harry. He closes the door and goes back to the bedroom to try and nap. He doesn´t wanna drink anymore. Louis calmed him down enough. The effort is futile, though. Harry is so goddamned tired he feels like crying but neither the tears nor sleep is coming. He gets up in a fit of rage and goes to the kitchen, pulling the refrigerator door open hard enough to make the carton of milk nearly fall out. He just stands there for a minute, trying to calm himself down. Deep breaths.  
He makes himself a sandwich eventually and shoves it down his throat in record time. 

 

“You coming to bed?”  
Louis is already tucked in, eyes half opened and looks so beautiful, so delicate that Harry falls in love all over again. He pecks Louis on the lips, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “In a minute, love.”  
He pads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Carefully he takes out the pocket calender he keeps hidden underneath all his shampoos and shower gels (he always forgets if he still has enough- by now his stash will last till he turns 40. At least.) opens it to today and crosses the day out. The fifth in a row. He should probably feel accomplished because he hadn´t been drinking in those five days but all he feels is shame about letting it get out of hand so badly. Louis doesn´t know about this. Harry is too scared he´ll fuck up once again (it´s just what he does) and disappoint Louis, so he keeps his mouth shut about it. Besides Louis doesn´t know what prompted Harry into trying a sober life in the first place.

A week ago Louis spent the weekend with his family and while they love and adore Harry, he didn´t feel like he could manage to be around so many people. People who were so freakishly nice to him all the time it made his heart hurt, because he doesn´t feel like he deserves it. So he stayed behind. And lasted all but seven hours until he started drinking bottle after bottle of beer. In the end he was so drunk he started looking for something to cut his wrists with and screamed his misery into the void that was some suicide chatroom. And to top it all off he downed an entire bottle of analgesics.  
When he woke up the next day he felt so much disgust and shame he couldn´t bear it. Still wobbly on his feet he tried to wash the feelings away. The disgust, the shame, the self-hate, his parents bruising fingers, strangers hands feeling him up against his will but his mind too blank as that he could´ve remember how to say no. The blueish foam he retched up the night before. The sharp pain when he tried to pee earlier and all that came out was blood.  
It didn´t work. He doubled over under the spray, sobs wrecking his frame until he throwed up. Once his mind was a bit clearer he swore to himself to stop doing this to himself. He couldn´t stand the thought of having to go through another day like this. So he crossed his first day out. Hoping that this little bit of physical evidence of his effort might coerce him into staying true to his promise to himself.

It takes another week for Louis to mention it to Harry. And Harry doesn´t want to tell him. It´s only been a couple days. But when Louis looks at him with those blue, blue eyes filled with hope, he spills. Tells Louis about the disastrous night (he leaves out the overdose, though) and that he tries to stay sober. When he finishes Louis has tears in his eyes and clings to Harry so desperately he has a hard time breathing.  
“I´m so proud of you, love. So fucking proud.”  
Don´t be, is what Harry wants to say. He is 98% sure he´ll crumble the next time he is all by himself.  
“So proud of my angel.”  
Harry just clings to him even more, staying silent.

Staying sober comes with a price. In week two the nightmares start and Harry wakes up from his naps either drenched in sweat or with tears on his cheeks. Sometimes both. He knows Louis knows. But he gives Harry the time he needs to wrap his head around all of this. One of the reasons he started drinking in the first place was drowning out the memories. Now they were back full force. He starts having flashbacks again. Spends some days dissociating on the couch and Louis can barely get Harry to return to him.  
It takes three more days for Louis to crack.  
“It´s your parents, isn´t it?”  
It´s not really a question, because Louis knows what they did to Harry. All the years of physical and emotional abuse left him shattered to pieces, which were held together by duct tape and safety pins with Louis´ name on them.  
So Harry just nods and Louis holds him tight.  
“I hate them, Harry.”  
“Please let go of me, I can´t….” Harry gasps, his eyes closed.  
“Oh god, Harry I´m so sorry.” Louis whispers.  
“It´s okay, just…don´t touch me.”  
So they just sit there in silence. Louis nervously fumbling with the rim of his shirt, Harry feeling guilty for pushing him away. It makes his skin crawl.  
“Let´s go for a walk.” Harry says, standing up.  
“You want me to come with you?” Louis sounds so insecure. He´s hunched over, trying to make himself even smaller.  
“Of course I do. You´re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Harry says, bending down to kiss the top of Louis´ nose.  
“Likewise.”  
Harry just snorts, the anxiety seeping out of him. He extends his hand. “Let´s go, love. I might even talk about shit.”  
“Can´t say no to that, can I?” Louis chuckles.  
“Nah, because you love me so damn much.” Harry coos, bashing his eyelashes.

It´s chilly outside and it doesn´t take long for Harrys face to feel frozen. He loves it. It makes him feel alive. They walk hand in hand as Harry gives bits and pieces of his abuse away. How his father threw things at him in anger, kicked him, threatened him and how his mother hit him with a cooking spoon until it broke. How they forced him to eat until he puked and stubbed out their cigarettes on his arms.  
Harry also admits how hard it is for him to stay sober, because he gets worked up so much he is shaking all over and he can´t focus and can´t do anything and he feels like he isn´t really here, like he is dreaming and he can´t make himself wake up and that he already fell off the wagon three times.  
"I´ve been scared shitless, always on edge for the most part of my life. I never had any privacy. Jesus, I couldn´t even take a shower without dad barging into the room. And when he...when he saw the cuts on my arm he...he...just punched me. Again and again. Because you like the pain, huh, you perverted little rat." He closes his eyes, unwilling to let the tears fall.  
Louis stays silent through all of it, clutching Harrys hand harder. He´s heard all of it before. But when Harry turns to look at him he sees the pain in his eyes. It hurts Louis nearly as much as it hurts Harry. Maybe even more.  
“Come here.” He says, and takes Louis into his arms. They stay like that for a while.  
“I´ll be okay, Louis. I´ll be okay.”  
He isn´t sure whom he is trying to convince. Part of him wants to crawl out of this shithole, wants to be able to finally breathe, to show them he was better than them, that they haven´t broken him but another part of him...just wants to let go. The part of him that knows his parents were right in treating him that way, that he is a worthless piece of shit and that he´ll never deserve the love Louis gives him.  
“Let´s go home and I make dinner.” Louis mumbles into his shoulder.  
“How about we get some take out?” Harry smiles and when Louis kisses him softly he can´t hold in the tears any longer.

They are snuggled up on the sofa, blanket thrown over the both of them, Star Wars 6 playing in the background quietly. Harry barely pays attention, too busy trying to quench the guilt he feels at having put Louis through another one of his breakdowns. How Louis hasn´t broken up with him yet is beyond him; at the same time he knows exactly why. Louis loves him with all he has and he doesn´t mind picking up the pieces time and time again. Just like Harry doesn´t mind when Louis is the one crumbling under the weight of it all. His own abuse, the absent father, the bullying in school and the eventual drop out, because he lost his temper and beat some guy half to death before he could stop himself. How he had to go to evening classes every day after or before his shifts at that awful restaurant with that piece of shit of a boss who sexually harrassed Louis and all that hard work he had done up to that point went down the gutter, because that was the point were he completely broke.  
And that was why they worked out so well. While every other person they ever came a little closer to either pitied them, mocked them, didn´t believe them, told them they were manipulative assholes or were offended when they didn´t open up....the list was endless. They were never good enough, normal enough for anyone else.  
They understood it each other. They trusted each other. Good times or bad, they always pulled through. Together. They were each others safe haven. At the end of the day, they only had each other and were fine with it.


End file.
